


Then We'll Never Know

by ludolefebvre



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Like Lots, Lots of Crying, M/M, Somewhere in the USA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludolefebvre/pseuds/ludolefebvre
Summary: The year is 2010. Sergey has been in love with his best friend for as long as he knew what the word 'love' meant.After two years away at university, trying and failing to forget him, Sergey returns to his hometown, heart set on confessing his feelings to Dima. But the ring on Dima's finger kills the words in his throat.
Relationships: Dima Bilan/Original Female Character, Dima Bilan/Sergey Lazarev
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue: Seven Minutes In Heaven

Late spring of 2008. Four years of high school, finally over. A party rages on in the basement of Polina’s parents’ house. 

Less than an hour in, a game of Truth or Dare has begun. 

Dima picks ‘dare’, of course. Polina takes a long sip on her Smirnoff Ice, lips quirking into a sneaky smile.

Next thing Sergey knows, he and Dima are being dragged upstairs and shoved into the closet in Polina’s bedroom, with the explicit instructions to do “whatever they want” for the next seven minutes. "Have fuuun!" the two hear Polina's voice ring out, as her footsteps thump back down the stairs.

Sergey laughs nervously, blinking in the dark at his friend. “So… what are people supposed to do during this game, again? Are we really going to-”

He’s cut off as he feels Dima’s lips press softly against his own. He makes a small noise of surprise and feels his stomach flip. A flush rises to his cheeks as he kisses Dima back, feeling as if he might melt. Dima tastes a little like bottom-shelf whiskey, a little like peach Chapstick.

Dima puts his warm hands on the sides of Sergey’s waist, and Sergey’s heart beats faster. Sergey settles for placing his hands on Dima’s chest, opening his mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Sergey shivers as Dima moans softly against his lips; a sound he’d dreamed about in the most guarded part of his heart. They press together, and Dima sneaks one of his hands downward to squeeze Sergey’s butt, which makes Sergey pull away to laugh softly.

“Hm?” Dima goes to pull his hand away. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t say stop,” Sergey whispers, grabbing the front of Dima’s t-shirt and pulling him forward to reunite their lips. They kiss in the dark closet, Sergey pushing Dima’s back against the wall as the other man continues to trace his hands around the contours of Sergey’s body. 

He’s never felt this way before. He knows he adores Dima, has for years, but never had he imagined that these feelings might be reciprocated. But here they are, two best friends, making out in a closet at a house party, and Sergey’s heart is throwing itself loudly against his ribcage, desperately seeking to be closer to Dima. Sergey sighs softly into Dima’s mouth, and he’s about to say those three fateful words he’s been longing to say since they were fourteen, but then the closet door is thrown open with a loud ‘bang’.

“Seven minutes is u- oh my god!” Polina laughs loudly as Dima and Sergey jump apart as if electrocuted. Dima blinks in the sudden flood of light, face burning with momentary shame. Sergey wipes some spit off of his lips.

“Ha!” Dima says suddenly. “She fell for it, Sergey!”

Sergey’s brow furrows, confused. Polina looks just as puzzled.

“We were posing, y’know, as a joke. To freak you out. And we got you good, Polina!” Dima laughs, sliding out of the closet past a dumbfounded Sergey. “C’mon, I need a drink after that. You coming?” 

“I’m just gonna check my phone first, go on ahead,” Sergey chokes out, his face heating up with embarrassment. He’s glad when Dima and Polina leave the room, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He bites his lips, pretending he can’t still taste Dima on them, and chokes back tears. 

After all this time, he thought he’d finally gotten what he wanted, only to have it ripped away as quickly as it happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Sergey’s first night alone in Miami is difficult.

He and his mother had stuffed the car full of his things and taken turns in the driver’s seat for the long drive southbound. She’d stayed overnight with him in his small bachelor apartment for two nights, to help him get his things properly unpacked and make sure he’d gotten a first round of groceries. Sergey was grateful for the help, and it was a hard goodbye when Tina had to leave on the third evening, wanting to drive overnight to beat morning traffic. Sergey didn’t want his mother to worry, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a brave face as he waved, standing on the sidewalk outside of his apartment building until the car was no longer visible.

Walking across the threshold of his new apartment feels strange. Somewhat freeing- but it’s odd to see all of his familiar possessions in an unfamiliar setting. His bed with his favourite blankets from home, all of his movie and band posters on the walls. Then there’s the new things that are exclusively his, that have never belonged to anyone else. Sergey considered himself very lucky to have a fairly affluent family friend, Mrs. Pugacheva, who had given him a sizable gift certificate to IKEA as a graduation gift. 

Sergey, Dima and Polina had taken Polina’s beat-up Volkswagen van to the store and spent the day there. The three split their time between goofing off in the display rooms, eating meatballs and cake in the food court, and actually filling their shopping cart with essentials Sergey would need for his apartment. While Sergey ultimately had the say in what he was spending money on, looking at his new space, he can definitely see the influences from both of his close friends playing into the décor. Polina’s style was simplistic and elegant, and she had picked out a set of dishes and glassware that he would be proud to serve guests with. Dima tended to favour more eclectic, modern pieces- while Sergey never would have picked out a black, white and blue chevron lacquer-topped coffee table himself, not in a million years, he’s got to admit it does spruce up the space a little… And he can always just cover it with a cloth if he gets sick of the design.

His favourite piece, though, was one he’d picked out for himself. The large rug took up most of the floor in his living space. He’d agonized for a good half hour over which design to pick, and was ultimately very happy with his choice. 

Sergey removes his sandals and steps onto the soft, cushiony rug. He’d gone for a nice pile, deep enough to make the room feel cozy, but not so deep that he’d have to go through the trouble of steam-cleaning it. The midnight blue colour with gold-patterned accents makes the room feel _his_ in a way that he wasn’t expecting when he’d purchased it. 

He’s happy with most aspects of his new space, and he’ll get used to living with the parts that he isn’t. But the gnawing feeling growing in his stomach isn’t because of what is _in_ the apartment, it’s what’s missing.

_Who_ is missing.

It was no coincidence that Sergey had applied to Florida International University. He could have studied economics just about anywhere, but he had spent a night furiously researching on the internet for the safest place to live for an out, gay man in America. He’d landed on Miami, which had a gay-friendly mayor and a lasting, thriving LGBT culture. The city even had its own Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce.

He then made it his goal to get stellar grades, good enough for a scholarship. He showed the school he'd chosen to his mother, without mentioning anything about the gay culture in the surrounding city. It was a hard sell, but he had anticipated that. She didn’t tell him ‘ _no_ ’ outright, but Sergey could tell that his mother was more than reluctant to send her only remaining son halfway across the country, to a big, unfamiliar city, when he could just stay in New Jersey and save money going to college locally. 

It took her the better part of four months to relent. He’d kept on about the university, bringing the topic of admissions up at the dinner table more than once a week. He started following some of Miami’s sports teams, because why not? He studied hard, staying up in the night to do extra credit assignments, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

He’d also slipped in the fact that he had convinced his longtime best friend to apply to the school with him. Dima Bilan was practically a second son to Tina Lazareva, and she had let out an audible sigh- both of relief, and slight exasperation- when Sergey had uttered the news. The fact that her son wouldn’t be alone if he left town for school was a heavy weight off of her shoulders. 

When Sergey had come home with his mid-term report card in October and showed his mother the paper full of scores in the 95% and above range, her only choice was to give him her blessing to apply to the schools he wanted, and attend whichever one they could send him to without ending up in too much debt.

It had been a night of triumphant excitement for Sergey, but nothing that would compare to the day he’d received his official offer of admission to FIU.

* * *

Sergey runs up the wet, slushy driveway, gravel crunching under his feet and sticking to his shoes. His mother isn’t home from work yet, so shoves all of the mail in his bag before he fumbles to unlock the front door to their house as quickly as possible.

Once he’s inside with the door closed behind him, he kicks his dirty shoes onto the rubber mat and drops to his knees on the floor beside the coat rack. Heart pounding, he digs through his bag for the one piece of mail he’d been looking for. Bills, flyers… _there_ it is. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks as he opens the letter with trembling fingers.

“ _Dear Sergey,_

_Congratulations! We are delighted to offer you admission to Florida State University…_ ”

Sergey’s heart jumps into this throat. 

“Yes!” he yells, pumping his fist in the air. He stays on the floor for a few moments, closing his eyes and sighing in absolute relief. He feels like he could weep tears of joy as he finally gets up, taking his jacket off and bringing his things into the kitchen. 

He sits down and reads the rest of the letter, then reads it again, and _again_ , just to make sure that he’s actually reading and understanding it correctly- that he will be welcome in Miami in the fall, and not only that, but that his grades, if he is to keep them up, will earn him a bursary worth two-thirds of his tuition for his first year, as well as a reserved spot with fixed rent at an apartment complex near campus. This is _crazy_ , this is more than he could have ever hoped or wished for.

And in all of the frenzy of school applications, he’s not forgotten why he’d picked this school. At long last, he might get to live his life out of the closet. Not that he’s set on being a drag queen, or anything like that- though he does admire their artistry. But the chance to be himself, Sergey Lazarev, economics major who loves the beach, shopping, working out, and happens to not be straight. The idea that he has the potential to not only be comfortable in his own skin, but be proud to be who he is, sits squarely in his reach now.

He’s excited to tell his mother, but that will be a surprise for when she gets home. For now, Sergey pulls out his little Motorola cell phone and dials 3, Dima’s speed dial code.

“Hey! I just got home, what’s up?”

“Have you checked the mail yet?” Sergey asks.

“No, why, what’s up? Did you send me a dick in a box?” Dima laughs.

“Fuck off, _no,_ I just- go check it, okay? And then call me back!” Sergey hangs up the phone.

Sergey fixes himself a plate of cheese and crackers while he anxiously waits for Dima to call him back. He sits on the couch, watching MTV on the lowest audible volume setting, so that he’ll be able to hear his ringtone.

Instead, after 25 minutes, he hears the doorbell frantically going off. He jumps off the couch and hurries to the door, and then Dima’s practically tackling him, waving a letter in one hand.

“I’m going to Miami, please tell me you’re going too, that’s what you meant, right? _Please_ tell me that’s what you meant!” Dima nearly yells into Sergey’s ear.

They break apart, both grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Sergey laughs. They hear tires on gravel, and Dima turns around to see Tina Lazareva’s car pulling into the driveway. 

“Does she know yet?” Dima asks excitedly.

“No, not yet, I want to tell her,” Sergey grins.

Tina, of course, ends up being overjoyed, especially with the bursary that Sergey has received, and the news that Dima was also accepted to the school. She invites Dima to come over on the weekend for a celebratory dinner, and gives him a hug before he leaves to go back to his house and tell his own parents the news.

* * *

_Funny how things had turned out in the end_ , Sergey laments. 

If only Dima’s parents hadn’t been so strict. Sergey had anticipated some struggles with them, but after being Dima’s friend since elementary school, he thought they’d finally have some sort of trust in him, even if they never trusted their own son… they’d figured that Dima would never come back if they’d let him leave. And knowing Dima’s relationship with them, they’d probably have been right. The pair had always been the type to withhold affection and make up for it with material things, and they’d given their son an ultimatum- if you stay and attend community college, you’ll keep your car, we’ll get you an apartment, and pay your tuition. If you leave to go to school anywhere else, you’ll be cut off from both your family and their funds. Dima had been left with not much choice. 

Sergey can’t bring himself to resent Dima for it, and nonetheless, can’t deny the hollow feeling his absence brings. Knowing that now, they’ll each have experiences, have whole _lives_ that the other won’t be there for- it feels like closing a door that he’d wanted to walk through. Because as much as Sergey had known that Dima couldn’t possibly love him back romantically, part of Sergey thought that maybe, with enough time… maybe if they lived together, away from their parents and their suffocating hometown … _something_ would happen. But that chance is gone now. 

Sergey knows he’s sabotaging himself. 

He sits down on the edge of his bed, curls his fingers, scrunching the sky-blue quilt between them. He focuses on that feeling for as long as he can. Deep breaths. 

He wonders what Dima’s doing right now.

_Don’t._ Deep breaths, just _breathe._

Loneliness feels so much worse when you know exactly who you want to be with. Sergey doesn’t even realize he’s biting his lip until he tastes the tang of blood on his tongue.

“Fuck,” he mutters, bringing his hand up to his mouth. He curses again when his fingers come away smeared red, and drags himself to the bathroom. He wipes his hand clean, and then holds a damp washcloth to his lip. He stares at himself in the mirror, blinking, watching his chest rise and fall under his shirt with each breath.

He’s calmed down a bit by the time his face is cleaned up, and his lip is no longer bloody, just sore. It’s been a long time since he’d felt the need to write things down in a journal, but now his hands itch for a pen.

He digs around in the Rubbermaid tote full of school supplies, coming up with a green sparkly gel pen and a piece of yellow construction paper first. It’ll have to do for now.

‘ _I deserve to be happy’_ is the first sentence he writes, then he stops, pen hovering over the page.

‘ _I want to be happy’_ , and ‘ _I can be happy’_ come next. The word ‘ _happy’_ itself is starting to look fake. 

‘ _How do I find happiness?’_

Sergey sits and thinks, doodling on the corner of the page. 

‘ _New friends._

_ New experiences. _

_Discover who I am on my own, and be proud of it._ ’

It all sounds _so_ corny, but he thinks he’s got a half-baked point. Part of the crushing loneliness he feels right now is due to the fact that he’s just not used to being in his own company. Even when he’d been in his room back home, he’d be talking to someone through IM or text, or talking on the phone, unless he had something else to focus on. Most of his headspace was taken up by others, not himself. Maybe that could change. 

What if, instead of missing his old life and friends, he focuses on enjoying a new life? 

First, Sergey agrees to give himself the night to wallow in self-pity, and mourn what could have been. He finds some more paper, and a pen that doesn’t spew glitter, and writes down everything he’d never allowed himself to say out loud to Dima. He writes out what their future could have looked like together. He rips it all up and throws it out the window in crumpled fistfuls. He cries into his pillow. He lights a eucalyptus scented candle. He slides a Rihanna CD into his stereo and dances to the whole thing until he’s sweaty and aching. He cries some more. He eats a whole sleeve of OREOs. He passes out on his bed, wrapped in his quilt, with the lights still on.

And in the morning, he deletes Dima’s number. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! More to come.


End file.
